Misconception
by Superficial Faith
Summary: Jazz's perception of Starscream is horribly misconstrued.


**Disclaimer: Transformers belongs to its respective creator and companies. No copyright infringement is intended.**

His sensornet was quivering from the sheer _raw_ power that the mech hovering over him exuded. It was almost as if he could reach out and touch it.

"You never answered my question, Autobot!" the mech snapped, and Jazz flinched. The voice grated on his audio, high-pitched and moody. It was little wonder how Starscream received his name. And, like many expected of the Decepticon Air Commander, his impatience got the better of him.

Large blue hands slammed into the wall of the cave on either side of the sub-commander's head, and Starscream's grey face obscured his vision at an alarmingly fast rate.

Faces just inches from each other, the jet smirked and asked coyly, "So, come here often?"

Jazz wasn't quite sure what was causing his sensornet to buzz in excitement—to inform him of this odd attraction—but he didn't like it. It was wrong to be aroused by a Decepticon, he told himself. Oh so _deliciously _wrong. And it made him wonder—how had such a routine mission become so terribly twisted?

It had started as just a reading—a small one—that Optimus had advised he check out (though why he couldn't have chosen someone more suited for scouting was beyond Jazz's comprehension). While Earth had unrefined sources of Energon, to be sure, what the reading had picked up was a rather large store of the "stronger stuff"—liquid Energon. Perhaps it was a glitch, they all had thought. To find such a store on Earth was unheard of—the joke among the Ark about the one thing they'd never find, and yet here it was. How unfortunate no one had said it was guarded.

The shifting of one of the hands next to him made him jump as it slid down the wall, nearing a shoulder fairing. Surely such a simple movement couldn't be seductive, but it was. Oh, how it _was_! But the movement suddenly became dangerous as fingers curled around his vocal processors, jerking them violently.

His internals fired warnings at him as static erupted from his mouth in what was meant to be a scream—a scream that could not form. His HUD was suddenly plunged in red as Jazz felt wiring snap and cabling tear, and he could only think how ironic it was that Starscream—the one who was the first to flee in battle, the one whom the Autobots privately made fun of because he was beaten so easily—could be capable of such malice and hate, of such sheer _cruelty_ without nary a second thought? Was this the _real_ reason Megatron had appointed Starscream his second in command? Was this the reason why those who knew him regarded him with abhorrence akin to awe? Was _this_ why?

Hot Energon dripped down his neck cabling, winding its way down to pool at the crevices in his clavicle armor, and his hand reached to grip at his throat, surprised when Starscream let him. He could feel the gaping hole where his vocals used to be, the frayed wiring—nothing he was sure Ratchet couldn't fix—but enough to make him feel humiliated. He didn't have enough time to feel for any other damage, intentional or not, as the jet's other hand roughly grabbed his wrist and pinned it to the wall above him. He was vaguely aware of Starscream's head dipping out of his line of sight—too dazed to care—when he suddenly felt something cool and firm on the cables, and he froze.

Since when had their war been reduced to this—one side devouring the other's Energon? The thought was revolting. Their kind were not cannibals, they did not drain the other's resources while still functioning, did they? No one was sure with the Decepticons, but Optimus liked to think they had more morals than that, despite his subordinates' insisting otherwise. But he was wrong. So very, _very_ wrong. Or was he? They were in the middle of war, and as the humans were so fond of saying—there were no rules in war. Were the Decepticons merely fighting for survival, now? Intelligence had reported they were running horribly low on resources, so was it not lack of morals that compelled Starscream to continue nursing at his wound, but the purely primal instinct of _survival_, instead. But there was the Energon. Why didn't he take that instead—it would be just like Starscream to do so.

But almost as soon as it started, it was over. Starscream shoved him away in what seemed like complete revulsion, his glossa snaking out to finish off the remains of the Energon that was carelessly smeared across his mouth, Jazz's vocals still clenched in one hand.

"Large amounts of Energon are useless to those who have an eternal spark," the jet explained, his mouth quirking up into a wry smirk.

Jazz stumbled backwards inching slowly away towards the mouth of the cave.

"You know resources are scarce," Starscream hissed, "so run away little Autobot, because the next time we need Energon, you might find—" The vocals shattered in a shower of sparks. "—it'll be your own."

**Author's Note: Many thanks to kaz26 for the beta. Originally written for the holiday exchange on the tfic_contest community on LJ. See my blog for more details on how this was **_**supposed**_** to go. Constructive criticism is much appreciated.**


End file.
